Chris shook his head.
Laura sighed. "I want news—and I don't want news," she admitted. "Limbo is the worst, but at least right now, we've got some hope."
"Not sure that's a good thing," said the deputy. "We've had missing person cases end in death, and it damned near kills the family, too. Especially when it's a child." He nodded toward the walkway. "Well. We better get on then." He turned and led the way.
The Garrisons lived in a two-story ranch house. Its white paint had been dirtied with mud and dust. On the wide front porch sat two rocking chairs with a small table in-between. At the farthest end was a porch swing that creaked with movement thanks to the frosty wind. Dead
leaves had gathered in piles at the corners and grit covered the wooden planks. Deputy Pickerel confidently knocked on the edge of the screen door.
